VirtualDesire (22 page)

“You will need to enter from the western end and distract
the guards while I enter from the east,” he said. “Do not react to anything I
do except as an innocent onlooker. You do not want it to appear that you are
aiding me.”

Ardra led him to a door that opened into a dark alcove. To
his right was a set of winding steps. Before him was what he at first thought
was a wall, but then realized was a heavy tapestry.

She indicated a small hole through which a glimmer of light
shone. Dust tickled his nostrils as he looked out on the great hall, filled
with rows of Selaw mourners. It lacked the opulence of a Tolemac hall. The
women were well dressed, but their garments did not have the same richness of
embroidery as those of Tolemac free women. There was little conversation, but
the hall was still noisy with the sounds of cutlery and servants bustling
about.

He tried to steady his erratic breathing. His heartbeat felt
rapid and fluttery in his chest. How much simpler to act if the crowd were
moaning and groaning over a hundred chamber pots. He wiped sweat from his brow.
Where was Gwen?

“I don’t get it,” Gwen said softly. Her stomach did a little
dance at Narfrom’s smug smile.

“Don’t you see? I have seven councilors in my power. They
will do whatever I want to save their daughters. Surely a daughter is worth
changing a few votes, a treaty possibly. Or even donating this fortune the
warrior seeks to my retirement fund. I could rule here very soon.”

“What of Ruonail? Isn’t he ruling?”

Narfrom waved off her words with a negligent hand. “An old
man. When I mate with Ardra, all will accept me as his heir.”

His eyes glittered with amusement. “Old men die.”

A shiver ran down Gwen’s spine. So Ardra had it all wrong.
He might want to ravish Senga, but his personal designs were on a different
maiden. She changed the subject before he realized how much of his plans he’d
revealed to her. “Which came first? The game or this world?”

“This world exists quite independently of the game, my dear.
Don’t you understand any of it?” He shoved off the table and began to pace. “I
was fifteen when I saw a man disappear. He was dotty, a bumbling cretin who
worked for my father’s engineering firm but he had hobbies. Marvelous hobbies
to a young man of curiosity—”

“You,” Gwen interrupted. She was definitely going to die. He
was pouring out his every thought much too indiscreetly.

He nodded. “It took me days to believe in his disappearance,
but finally, when he did not rematerialize, I understood I’d witnessed a
miracle.” He pounded his fist into his palm. “It took me thirty years to repeat
what he’d done. The bastard had encoded his notes. I made several rather
disastrous mistakes first—lost a child. Another boy who witnessed the little
tragedy started drawing this world a few years later. Luckily that’s all he did
as he grew up—draw it. When the time was right, I talked him into making it
into an incredible virtual reality experience.” He snorted back a giggle.
“Little did he know he was drawing a real place.”

Abruptly he strode to Gwen’s side and knelt by her. His
touch on her cheek was icy cold. “What were you wearing when you disappeared?”

“Wearing? My nightgown.”

“Any jewelry?”

She shook her head. She’d taken off her earrings and her
wedding ring. Then she remembered the ring on Vad’s hand as he held hers. She
could not let Narfrom know about Vad. “No, I’m wrong. I had a ring, but I lost
it.”

“Celtic?”

She nodded.

“I was right. If one can wait for the extra electrical
energy produced by a storm, and if one wears certain designs, the power of
those ancient interlacing patterns channels that energy and you go into the
game. I must stop thinking of it as a game. It’s a world all on its own.” He
stood and stroked the beautiful embroidery at his waist. “See these designs?
They entwine endlessly, linking, channeling the energy.”

“Sounds strange to me. Are you saying that a man, whom you
saw disappear, invented some machine to bring him here using Celtic designs?”

Narfrom shrugged. “I do not know what he was trying to
accomplish, but he knew the ancient legends, had scores of books and
photographs of caldrons and weaponry that had been found in rivers, once
offerings to the ancient gods. He studied the designs, coincidental or
deliberately, we will never know. And he must have come here. It would account
for the legends of the lands beyond the ice fields. These people have not the
level of technology to cross that vast wasteland themselves and return to tell
about it.”

“What if one of my customers is wearing Celtic designs and
plays the game during a bad electrical storm; will she or he be sent into the
game?”

“Not without a certain type of conjunction. I used to think
only a lunar conjunction would do, but I have found that if the power of a
storm is great enough, you can still travel on a lesser stellar conjunction. I
can now make the journey at will. It takes but two things—power and design,
both Celtic and heavenly.”

Power and Design
. It had been the title of Gary
Morfran’s talk in London. “What about the weapon rumors? Doesn’t the description
of that coveted weapon match the game gun? Isn’t the Tolemac council trying to
find a way across the ice fields to find it?”

“Oh, yes, you are well informed. Tolemac and Selaw both wish
for such a weapon. A totally useless endeavor.” He reached inside his robes.
“Why would anyone need a game gun when there is this?”

Every cell in Gwen’s body went cold. Narfrom strolled
casually to her and raked the barrel of a gun, one that looked alarmingly
similar to R. Walter’s, across her cheek.

Vad searched the many faces for a glimpse of Gwen as he
stood behind the tapestry, his insides knotted with concern. No, he was lying
to himself. This was far stronger than concern. Deny it he might, but there was
a tie between him and Gwen, a connection. The thought of her in danger sent a
rush of blood through his veins, a call to defend that shook him with its
intensity.

Somehow he knew in that moment that if the connection was
severed, he would suffer for it, perhaps forever. She was more than just a
woman who knew the world of his night dreams.

A sudden silence made him put his eye to the hole again. At
the far end of the room, a man rose from his place before the warming fire of
the hearth. The glow lit his hair in a silver blaze. The man must be Ruonail,
Ardra’s father.

“We are gathered to mourn the loss of three of our men,”
Ruonail said, his voice thundering down the hall. “The men betrayed my
daughter’s trust and endangered her life. It is fitting and proper that they
lost theirs in the process. Stand and raise your cups.”

The company rose, metal goblets held high in their hands.
Untainted wine was in them, Vad supposed.
What an opportunity lost
.

Ruonail spoke when all were silent and every eye turned to
him. “I drink to their souls. May they never find rest.”

A gasp ran through the hall. Voices rose in an angry murmur.
Some drank; some did not.

“Silence,” he roared across the room. “You will drink! I
command it. Drink to their unrest. To their eternal walk on the ice, never to
find peace, their punishment for harming one of my family. Drink, or you shall
join them.”

Ruonail threw back his wine in a single gulp. After a
moment’s silence, others also drank their wine. Like a ripple across a pond,
the arms rose around the room, one after another, and the Selaw people drank.

“Nilrem’s throat,” Vad swore. Ruonail might be ill, but he
still commanded his people with an iron will. “Go now. Cross the hall,” he said
to Ardra. She lifted the edge of the tapestry and slipped away. He watched
Ardra walk quickly across the vast chamber. Whispers followed her. Ruonail half
stood; then when Ardra did not look in his direction, he sat back in his place.

Vad moved quietly from the tapestry and up the steps.
According to Ardra’s map, the room with the five maidens together was three
rounds up and a few doors from the room housing Narfrom’s favorite. And where
was Gwen?

The stairs circled to the left to give the advantage to the
right-handed warrior coming down. Vad moved his blade to his left hand. He kept
his bare shoulder to the stone wall as he silently ascended. Three rounds up,
he stopped and imagined the two guards, each with drawn swords, standing at
each end of the corridor, facing the steps.

He heard Ardra. “How fare the maidens?” she asked.

The murmur of a man’s voice answered her, though the words
were indistinguishable.

“I wish to move this coffer to my chamber,” Ardra said quite
loudly. “Would you two men help me? A few steps only?”

How persuasive was her soft, feminine request. Vad heard the
sound of a man’s footsteps moving away from his end of the corridor.

Glancing cautiously around the wall, he saw the guard place
his sword on the wooden floor and smile and nod at her. His fellow guard did
the same. He would have had their arm rings for such a blatant lack of
discipline.

Silently he stepped up into the corridor. The men bent to
lift a banner-draped coffer.

He rushed forward, kicked the back of the closest guard’s
knee, and slammed his knife hilt into the temple of the other. Turning back to
the first guard, he kicked him in the groin.

He whirled to where Ardra stood, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Make not one sound,” he cautioned her for the conscious guard’s benefit, his
blade held beneath her chin. She nodded and collapsed in a credible faint.

He bound each man with his own belt and gagged the
unconscious guard with a strip he tore off the man’s tunic. The other guard was
too intent on his injured groin to make much noise. Vad grabbed him by the
collar and dragged him to the door of the room that held five of the maidens.

Next, he pulled the unconscious man to the door as well.
Last, he returned to the coffer. Over it lay a faded Tolemac banner, one taken
in a border skirmish, he supposed. He swept the banner off the chest, tied it
loosely about his waist, then checked the coffer for weapons. It was empty.

Vad knelt over the still-gasping guard, drawing Gwen’s
little fruit knife. “‘Tis said this knife is for cutting away sections of
flesh. I think ‘tis more suited to cutting out an eye. What say you?”

The guard gagged and choked, his eyes wide. He croaked for
mercy. With the tip of the curved knife, Vad traced the line of the guard’s eye
socket. “How many guards are inside this chamber and the next?”

The man began to beg pathetically for mercy. There was only
an old woman to see to the maidens’ needs; just one guard watched the other
one, Narfrom’s favorite, the man stammered out between whimpers. Of Gwen, he
seemed to know nothing. Vad rose, then dragged the man by his tunic to the
other guard.

Female whispers came to him. Silently he eased the door
open. Five young women, ranging in age from about fourteen conjunctions to
nearly twenty, were nestled like spoons on a bed. Their bare feet were tied.
Their eyes opened wide, as did their mouths, at the sight of him.

He touched his lips with a finger and gestured to the
gray-haired woman who dozed at the hearth. They nodded, first one, then another
down the row. Swiftly he untied their feet.

Their gazes followed him as he circled the edge of the room,
moving behind the woman. He undid the banner from his waist and twisted it into
a rope.

Quickly he dropped the makeshift gag over the woman’s head
and across her mouth. She jerked awake and bucked against the cloth. He
tightened it and knotted it in one motion.

Then he showed himself. The woman froze. She stared up at
him. He knelt at her eye level and touched her shoulder gently. “I mean you no
harm,” he whispered. “But you will be most uncomfortable for a bit.” As he
spoke, he tied her arms and legs to the chair. Next he returned for the two
guards and tossed them on the bed. Soon they, too, were trussed like spring
lambs.

When he turned around, the maidens, dressed alike in long
white bed robes, were standing in a row by the door. Their heads moved as one,
following his progress around the chamber as he gathered their shoes.

“Come with me.” He had no need to say more. They linked
fingers and followed him wordlessly. Just before he opened the door, he turned
back to them. “Obey me.” They bobbed their heads and smiled. He felt as if he
were being considered as a meal. “No matter what happens, you are to remain
silent. Utterly silent.” He eased the door open and peered out, then jerked
back into the room as he felt a warm hand on his back. “Do not touch me!” he said
in a hiss.

The maidens put their hands behind themselves and nodded
vigorously. He sighed.

“When it is silent below, we shall go down into the
labyrinth.” Fear lit their eyes. They darted glances at each other. “Do not be
afraid.”

A whisper of sound alerted him to one maiden’s movement. He
grabbed her hand in mid-caress. “You do not obey very well, do you? There is
rope enough to bind your hands should I find it necessary.”

The young girl had not even the decency to hang her head or
drop her eyes. She smiled up at him with a look of adoration he had seen too
often to be flattered by. Perhaps he would not wait for the mourners to leave
the hall. It might be safer down there than up here with the women. Surely, in
his weakened state, they could overpower him…

“I keep my gun hidden, even from Ruonail,” Narfrom said. “I
like this society in its primitive state. They’re no match for me just as they
are.” Narfrom sighed deeply. “It is such a burden to be the most superior being
in an entire world.”

His words chilled her to the bone. “So Ruonail isn’t
interested in crossing the ice fields for weapons?”

“All of Selaw wishes to get across the ice fields and gain
the marvelous weapons of legend.” He laughed. “They just don’t understand there
is no ‘beyond’ the ice fields. But I have convinced Ruonail that bartering ice
for weapons is senseless. He has become convinced he wants gold and jewels.
After all, when you have enough gold and jewels, you can buy all the food you
want—and all the weapons. And who has the gold and jewels? Tolemac.”

Narfrom smiled. “My dear, there is what amounts to a
mountain of gold outside, just waiting to be turned into the real thing.
Ruonail just needed someone to show him how to use the ice to the best
advantage. He was stupid to agree to the peace treaty. Ruonail trades the ice
for food! Moronic! But now, with hostages, I am this close,” he held his
fingers two inches apart, “to trading a worthless quantity of frozen water for
a fortune.”

“Or a map.”

“Map?” Narfrom grabbed her arm and hauled her close. “Who
said anything about a map?”

“You did.” She hadn’t even realized she’d said the word out
loud.

“I said fortune. Not map. What do you know about a map?”

“Slaves talk,” she said.

“Oh, yes, they do. Somehow I think you know more than you
let on.”

Gwen shook her head. “I just heard about a map, nothing
more.”

Narfrom gripped her by the throat. “We shall see. They have
a wonderful test of loyalty here in Selaw. Should you pass the test, you will
need to keep my secrets, work for me, not against me, or I will see you offered
to the slaves that mine the ice. They haven’t had a woman in months. They work
shifts of eight men on and eight men off. Can you handle eight men, Gwen?”

She tried to remain calm.

“Put the dress on.” Narfrom pointed to the gown she’d done
her best to ignore.

“Here?”

Sweat broke out in small beads across his brow. “I want to
see the goods. Maybe you’d be wasted on ice miners. Now change.” He raised the
gun.

She knew its power, understood the threat. Turning her back,
she pulled off her torn Selaw clothing. The gown was silky smooth, long,
flowing. Its high neck was embroidered about with the familiar Celtic knotwork
in turquoise and amber. Narfrom’s hands settled on her shoulders. “You are
lovely,” he said, his breath scented with wine. Then he pulled back. “Did you
hear something?” He walked toward the door, gun in hand.

Was Vad outside rescuing the maidens? She had to distract
Narfrom. “I can’t do up this dress. Can you help me?”

He veered back with a grin. “How nicely you ask. I would be
happy to help you.”

As he came to her, Gwen strained her ears for some sound
beyond the heavy wooden door, but heard nothing. There were thin ribbons down
the back, which Narfrom tied tightly, pulling the gown snugly against her chest
and abdomen. When he finished, he slid his hands about her waist, then up the
silky cloth to cup her breasts. He stroked the barrel of the gun over her
nipples. “In our world, you’re a bit out of shape. Here, you’re perfect.”

Gwen remembered the rumors about this man, the London
tabloid headlines that had linked him with the beating of his girlfriend—a
beating that had left the woman comatose. After that, he’d disappeared for
months—in jail, she’d thought. Now she wondered if he’d come here to escape
prosecution.

She stepped decisively away from his embrace. “Don’t touch
me. I can’t see any reason why we should be enemies—I have no loyalty to anyone
here—but if you so much as touch me again, you’re dog meat.”

His eyes glittered. “Lucky for you, you’re not my type. I much
prefer the subservient ways of Ardra. She knows her proper place. You’ve been
indoctrinated for far too long in the equality of women. Such a waste.” He
waved his gun toward the door. “Now come, I’ve a charming little room where you
will be quite comfortable until Ruonail is free to attend the testing.”

Vad led the maidens to the bottom of the winding steps to
where Ardra stood waiting behind the tapestry, gripping her pendant. Together
they led them down into the first levels of the labyrinth. His heart pounded at
the amount of noise the maidens made. He stopped Ardra at the first door. “What
of the child?”

“She is in the kitchen, sorting beans.”

“Is she safe there while I return above? There is one more
maiden to save, and I must find Gwen.” Ardra nodded, and he took the steps up
two at a time and hastened back along the still-deserted corridor. It was his
best hope that Gwen was inside with Narfrom’s favorite.

He eased the door open. A naked man was climbing onto the
bed—and a woman. Seeing Vad, he leapt off and grabbed his sword from the floor.

Vad snatched the jeweled dagger from his belt and threw it.
It was not a throwing knife, but it found its mark.

The man fell to his knees, the gaudy hilt protruding from
the center of his chest.

With a cough, he fell forward. Vad caught him, drew the
knife, and let the man collapse. He wiped the knife on the bedcovers, sheathed
it, and leaned close to the woman. “You must be silent if I am to take you away
from here.”

The young woman nodded, her eyes wide, a fist pressed to her
mouth.

Gently he pulled the woman’s skirts down. “Was that
Narfrom?” he asked her with a gesture to the dead man.

“Nay. A guard.”

“Where is Gwen?”

“Ruonail has her.”

He took in the manacle, the other empty shackle, and swore
silently. Bowing his head, he gathered all his concentration, applied every
awareness lesson he had ever learned. He opened his eyes, wrapped the woman’s
chain about his hand, grasped the pin, and pulled.

Nothing.

Sweat broke out all over his body. He closed his eyes and
gathered his strength and will and pulled. Slowly, so slowly he almost did not
believe it, the pin shifted. His hand and arm shook with the effort. The pin
gave way.